


"Stay over."

by Wrathofscribbles



Series: 100 ways (to say I love you) [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: IgNoct, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 07:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16512134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: It's been said so many times over the years.  Ignis will never tire of hearing it.





	"Stay over."

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HisGlasses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisGlasses/gifts).



> I was prompted an Ignoct and so an Ignoct I will write!
> 
>  **Big bold reminder that Final Fantasy XV and all of its content is property of Square Enix.** I just like to play in the sandpit they've created for the fans.

"You can stay over, if you want."

"Oh no, I can't!"

"Why not?"

"The King said a couple of hours, Noctis -"

"It's  _Noct."_

" - and that's  _two._ I need to go now."

"But why?"

"Because His Majesty said -"

"My Dad likes you.  I like you.  You can stay over."

"But - wait, where are we going?"

Noctis does not, in fact, wait.  He grabs hold of Ignis's hand instead and gives him a tug to come along and keep up and Ignis, ever the reliable friend, matches his pace to Noctis's and shadows him as he marches up to the Glaive standing guard by the door and pulls on the man's jacket to get his full attention.

He shadows Noctis even when he asks the Glaive, in a voice Ignis has never heard him use before, where his father is.  Even when the Glaive informs them that the King's in a meeting and offers to escort them the entire way.  Even when he radios ahead about their approach with a grin on his face and chuckles when Noctis charges on ahead.  Even when he wants to plant his feet and haul Noctis to a stop and then run off with him in the opposite direction rather than bother the King with something so... well... un-Kingly.

* * *

Regis knows the concerns of a child cannot hope to ever match the severity of overseeing a kingdom, knows that nothing Noctis can throw his way will outdo the demand of war, the hopeless drain of it, the growing list of those fallen in battle.  As a King he knows this, but as a  _father_... there is no greater challenge in this lifetime than ensuring his son's happiness, and so he calls a break in the meeting despite the mixture of outrage and amusement, pulls his book of sudoku puzzles from the Armiger while he waits for his son's arrival.  An arrival announced by the door letting out a painful squeal as it swings open and then Noctis is zooming in as fast as his little legs can carry him, face set in grave seriousness he's only seen once before, when his boy had clapped both hands to his face and declared him an icky alien the  _one_  time he decided on being clean shaven in years (the complete breakdown in Cor's composure still rings merry laughter through his head when he  _trims_  his beard).

"Noctis!  And Ignis, too!  To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, boys?"

"Dad," Noctis says, and the harsh lines of his face echo in the tone of his voice as he hoists himself into one of the chairs and slaps both hands flat on the table like he means  _business_  (and it is a challenge, indeed, to keep himself from smiling).  "You said Ignis could stay for a while and that while's up and I'd like for Ignis to stay over tonight and have hot chocolate and watch those movies Miss Monica got for my birthday and we could watch the stars come out?  Oh, and I still have to show him our library like I promised, and I'd like to ask if he could stay over, so.  Can he?  Please?  We won't cause any trouble, I double double promise!"

He looks at his son and the incessant fidgeting that doesn't once break the contact between palms and desk, the  _excitement_ thrumming through him and turning a light on behind his eyes so they glow with the power he hasn't pulled through his blood, not yet, still  _unaware_  of it for now and hopefully for another few years to come.  Then he casts his gaze to Ignis where he hovers several strides behind Noctis, pale as Regis has ever seen him, as if he'll collapse under the weight of concern in the next two seconds, conflicted as he sways back and forth as if he wants to rush Noctis and hush him, or turn tail and flee out the door.  Poor boy's a bundle of nerves - he's not  _that_  intimidating, is he?

 _You wear all black and half your face is hidden by that ridiculous attire and beard, Regis,_ says his inner Clarus and he snorts in soft amusement, crooks his finger at the boy to encourage him closer.

"Do you have any protests to such plans, Ignis?"

"No - not at all, Your Majesty!  But won't I be an inconvenience, it wasn't planned that -"

"Ignis," he says, silencing the boy so effectively no words come out of his mouth even as it flaps open and closed, "there is no inconvenience in friendship, and let no-one tell you otherwise."

"What does in-con-ven-sense mean?"

"Incon _venience_ , son, and I suppose understanding its meaning will be part of your homework, hm?"

"Aw, Dad!"

He smiles at his son's pout and reaches across to ruffle his hair, poking him on the nose when Noctis attempts to swat his hand away,  _laughs_  when Noctis squawks and claps both hands to his face and twists from his chair so quickly it truly is a miracle he doesn't wind up flat on his face on the floor.  Ignis goes to him then, like a moth to flame, hands finding their place upon Noctis's shoulders and he hesitates there, eyes darting between his friend, the door, to Regis, and back again.  He gestures to said door in gentle dismissal, masking further amusement with a  _sudden_  onset of coughing when Ignis all but scurries out, towing Noctis along with him and failing to whisper quietly enough.

_"Are you trying to get me killed, Noct?!"_

Ah, the perils of youth.

* * *

The chair creaks as he inches it over and if his feet were still planted on a marble floor his shoes would have squeaked in the process, but he's barefoot on the thick rug Noctis wanted to ward off the chill when he first wakes in the morning and sprints for the bathroom.  His eyes dart between his friend's pale face and the smile on Miss Selena's as she passes a hand over his head and slides her fingers through his hair, a soothing gesture Ignis has experienced countless times when Auntie reads bedtime stories.

"That should tide you over for a couple more days.  Try and rest now, Noctis."  She says as she leans in to press a kiss to his temple, tucks the blanket under his chin and pats his shoulder, pats his own, too, before taking her leave.  Ignis watches her go, barely able to check the impulse to run after her and hug her tight and thank her a thousand times over for giving Noctis what limited magic she has to spare.  He gets close to it, rocking forward in his chair to take off after her, Uncle's rules to not run through the corridors be dashed, but then Noctis stirs in the bed and lets out a mighty big sigh and his attention shifts solely back to his friend, the pale ghost of him so unlike the boy he'd waved goodbye to as he and His Majesty departed for Lestallum.

Noctis looks so small in that big bed, so small and weak and tired, half buried under the pillows he'd sunken into with the leaf-green flickers of Miss Selena's magic, eyes fluttering open above the bruise shadows that have been constant since his return, and his smile is a wobbly thing that's there and gone so fast Ignis would have missed it if he blinked.

"How do you feel?" He asks, already suspecting the answer but needing to hear it all the same, and feels the anxious twist in his tummy loosen when Noctis smiles a bit wider.  It's not the toothy thing of months ago when the world was big and bright and beautiful and daemons were just a rumour to spook kids into doing the dishes and go to bed on time, but it's better than nothing, better than the empty shell who'd come back and barely stirred when Ignis offered to read his favourite stories again  _and_  do all the funny voices.

"Better," Noctis replies, voice still raspy from all the screaming that'll haunt Ignis's nightmares for as long as he lives, fingers popping out of his cocoon and sliding over the blanket so his hand's outstretched for Ignis to take.  "Stay over?"

Ignis should say no.  He should say he has school tomorrow and his clothes are all at his Uncle's house and he has to get his bag organised and pour over his homework and revision to make sure everything's done and he's  _definitely_  happy with the answers he'd given, maybe sneak in another few pages of the book they're reading.  He should say he has to go home and have supper and a bath and - and any other reason he can think of,  _should_  think of.  But Noctis has asked for something so simple when he asks for so little, and he hasn't had a sleepover with his friend since long  _before_  the incident that nearly claimed his life and...

And he doesn't  _want_  to go, not really, because it isn't an obligation to Noctis but it  _is_  one to go to school and keep up with his work and get good grades and surely...  _surely_  one night won't hurt?  So he pelts to the chest of drawers and rifles through the bottom one to find the spare pair of pyjamas he's left for this very reason, and goes into the bathroom to change and hop around on one foot then the other then back again because the floor is really  _really_ cold and it's no wonder Noctis requested such a thick rug, and then he's  _not_  running (not at all) back to Noct's bedside and clambering up onto the spring soft expanse of it and flopping out beside his friend.  And he laughs when Noctis does when he knocks his glasses askew in all the wriggling around, and tucks in close without actually touching Noctis because his back's one angry mess of hurt and he doesn't want to upset Miss Selena's careful healing, and when Noct's laughter turns to a quiet giggle and he holds his hand out again, Ignis takes it and beams at his friend, who never asks for much at all except a friend and some fun.

"One night can't hurt, right?"

"Thanks Iggy."

* * *

"You are not seriously going home in  _that_."  Noctis says behind him and Ignis freezes with a wince, his jacket sliding free of its poor catch upon his arm to fall with a definitive  _flump_ , as guilty as he is in the otherwise silent apartment.  He swivels slowly on his heel, scrambling to arrange his face into an expression less likely to scream  _you caught me_ , and finds Noctis suspended upside down in a mist of phantom blue, the most at ease Ignis has seen him with his magic since he started working with it, and only a month ago at that.  Still...

"You need a haircut," his brain supplies and his mouth blabs before he can kick the filter between both into high gear, and just about wants to slam his head into the nearest wall for the  _idiocy_  of it.  There is a point to such nonsense, though, that inky black riot the longest it's ever been.

Noctis suits it, of course, but he's not about to say  _that_  aloud.  The eternal pain in his ass merely grins at him and dislodges the crystalline shards from his hair with careless fingers, blinks in quick succession as though fluttering his lashes at him, and sighs.  "Why, Ignis, that almost sounds like a compliment from you."

"Shouldn't you be turning back the right way round?"

"Spoilsport," but Noctis flips around in an easy show of grace all the same, his magic winking out of existence the moment his feet land on the ground, and then he's advancing on Ignis with a finger aimed at his chest and a frown plastered across his face and Ignis instinctively backs up from that cross look because it's spelled  _no end_  of trouble for him over the years.  Not that he gets very far when he fetches up against a wall and thumps his head back on it before he can stop the momentum.  And then Noctis is there, in his personal space, smelling of sulphur and ozone and it's a  _terrible_  combination he can only assume stems from the magic - but Noctis is in his space and leaning closer and there's hardly a breath of air between them.

Oh dear.

" _You_  are not going home in  _that_."

"It would only take fifteen minutes, Noct."

"You go around on a fucking  _moped_ , Iggy."

" _Language,_ Highness."

"A  _moped_.  And it's pissing buckets outside.  Do you  _seriously_  think I'm gonna let you out that door when Ramuh's throwing a hissy fit?"

"And what would you suggest, then?"

"Stay over," Noctis says, and rips out any protest he could form right out from under his feet before he can formulate any, and the little bastard  _knows it_ , if the smirk is anything to go by.

"Noct -"

"I wasn't asking, Ignis."  Close, and then closer still, scalding heat on his chest where Noctis touches, every inch, from the center of his palm to the tips of his fingers and Ignis is  _dying_ , burning alive, all over and inside out, can't breathe for how near they are, for the soft kiss of breath on his cheek, the glint in those ocean blue eyes, the smirk that only grows wider.  "What, afraid I'll jump your bones?"

_Afraid I want it, you fool._

"Stay over, wait for the storm to pass.  I promise you'll still be alive come morning."  And then he's warping away into the sofa, throwing his arms wide and slouching down, arranging himself into the perfect sprawl with just a sliver of skin visible between t-shirt and jeans and Ignis isn't dying, he's  _already_ dead and suffering in Ifrit's Hellfire, in this own brand of torture.

_If only you knew, Noctis, and you wouldn't ask this of me._

_"C'mon,_ Specs.  What's the worst that could  _happen?"_

He contemplates running.  He  _very seriously_  takes a couple of minutes to look from Noctis to his jacket to the door to the rain-spattered windows beyond the devil wrapped in familiar skin.  He wonders if he'll make it outside if he abandons his flimsy shield from the elements before Noctis can gather his wits about him and give pursuit, magic or not, if he'll be  _caught_.

He picks up his jacket, tucks the arms in, and settles it on the hook  _by_  the door, hesitates with hand still outstretched and itching to reach for the handle instead, to throw it wide but Noctis laughs,  _low_  and delighted and not at all what Ignis is used to and he can't - 

He's trapped and Noctis knows  _exactly_  what he's doing and Ignis is  _doomed_.

* * *

_"Stay over,"_ Noctis murmurs against his jaw, mouths down to his neck and nips, sucks until his knees threaten to buckle and he tips his head back, can't remember how to breathe, to protest, to  _react_ except for moan and beg for more without uttering a word.

 _"Stay over,"_ Noctis breathes as he slides over Ignis, cages him between the spread of his hands and the press of knees on either side of his hips, a tight fit on the sofa, hair falling around his face and casting faint shadows over his kiss-bitten smile, the dark of his gaze, the aged scar on his cheekbone, the mole so close to his mouth such a lure that Ignis can't stand it and takes Noct's shirt in hand, tugs him  _down_ , arches up to meet him and he  _burns_ , he  _wants -_

 _"Stay over,"_ Noctis gasps when the restless shift of limbs and weight topples them over the edge and an elbow catches him in the ribs in the ensuing futile scramble, and Ignis brushes his fingers over the area in silent apology, catches whatever cocky remark he has next with a kiss that leaves Noctis as wild as he feels, magic pulsing under his skin in time to a hectic heartbeat and dusting a glow over him, sending shocks between them that has Ignis trembling and hissing and wanting so much more.

_"Noct -"_

_"Stay over,"_ Noctis moans, grappling with his belt as they stumble for the bedroom, and Ignis doesn't say no, doesn't need to, doesn't  _want_  to.

* * *

Coffee, fresh and hot enough to burn all the way down with his first sip, welcome in the brutal cold of padding into the living area in just his boxers to find they'd left the windows open overnight,  _grounding_ in the chaos he's been thrown into by sighting the key left on the countertop beside the mug, on a plate empty of biscuits.

An offer without words, and Ignis already knows his answer.

 _Stay over_.

He doesn't leave.

* * *

He almost laughs himself sick over a decade later when he looks closer with Noct's urging and spies those very same words inscribed on the inside of the ring, to be tucked against his skin like a secret, forever a private joke between them.

"You are  _terrible,"_ he says, and flicks Noctis on the arm because he can.

"Yeah, but you love me anyway," is the reply and Ignis smiles at him.  At his partner, his lover, his best friend through all the years good and bad, his soon-to-be husband.

"Yes," he says, soft and sweet and for Noct's ears alone as he leans in for a kiss, "I do.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the Selena mentioned is Nyx's sister. This is based in an AU I'm working on in the background.
> 
> Please excuse any errors - it's currently 01.26 and I had to retype this entire thing because the format got messed up. Let me know if you spot any and I'll fix them after I get some sleep XD


End file.
